


Ianto and the New Year's Eve Snowstorm

by HippyChick1964



Category: Janto - Fandom, Torchwood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:41:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HippyChick1964/pseuds/HippyChick1964
Summary: Ianto is gladly going home for the night and hoping for a quiet evening.  Now what is that saying about "best laid plans"?





	

_I once kneeled in shaking thrill_

_I chase the memory of it still, of every chill_

_Chided by that silence of a hush sublime_

_Blind to the purpose of the brute divine_

_But you were mine_

_Staring in the blackness at some distant star_

_The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are_

_To the wild and to the both of us_

_I confessed the longing I was dreaming of_

_Some better love, but there's no better love_

_Beckons above me and there's no better love_

_That ever has loved me, there's no better love_

_Darling, feel better love_

_Feel better love_

-    “Better Love” as sung by Hozier

 

I was lucky to make it back to my flat.  Between revelers and the 30cm of snow that had already fallen, streets were blocked and buses were running an hour behind schedule.  I caught Mrs. Fletcher before she closed up to get a few provisions, thinking I wouldn’t get out for at least a day.  “It’s a right mess, eh Mr. Jones?” she was an always cheery middle-aged lady.  “And they said we’re supposed to get at least another 40cm more !”  She finished bagging my juice, eggs, shredded cheese, bacon, steak cutlets, and pinto beans and said, “A handsome man like you!  Have some cutie to kiss at the stroke of midnight?”

“Leave him alone, Mother.  Stop being so nosy!” joking nagged her husband as he came in from the back room.  “You’re always trying to couple people.”

“It’s okay, really,” I said trying to at least grin.  “I’ve been working hard since Christmas.  I’m looking forward to some peace and rest for a day or two.”

Mr. Fletcher nodded then thought for a moment before stopping me from turning around.  “Mr. Jones?”  He motioned me back to the counter.  “Hold on a moment.  I think I have something to take the chill off ya.”  He got a ladder and climbed up to a top shelf then came down with a dark green cylinder.  “This ought to make for a nice toast.  Before I married this wonderful woman, I lean on it a time or two.”  He put the Glenlivet in a decorative bag with “Happy New Year!” on the outside and handed it to me.  “You’re a good customer and, If I know people, and I do, you’re a good man.  I’m certain someone right will come along for ya very soon.”  He smiled at me kindly, trying to loan me some of his confidence.  “Enjoy your holiday, even if it is alone.”  He almost made my current misery seem heroic.

I struggled with my packages through the snow and increasing wind.  I was beginning to believe the weather woman who eagerly predicted “a once in a 100-year storm”.  A few slappers who had a head start on this night’s intoxication, nearly knocked me over as they skidded on the sidewalk.  “Hey, cutie!  Wanna join us?”

“No, thank you,” I replied trying not to make eye contact.

As I unlocked the downstairs door of my flat, I overheard one of them comment on how I “must think I’m too cute” for them then another one say “Naw, he’s probably gay.  Most of the cute ones are nowadays.”  Dragging myself up the steep stairs so common for UK buildings, I wondered if they knew all that had happened to me in the last few years, would they change their comments and if so, how.

I got into my flat and let out a big sigh of satisfaction.  I loved my place.  I had designed it from top to bottom.  Dark Oakwood floors and paneling, book shelving everywhere and a built in stereo system, leather couch and recliner in front a double pane picture window that darkened at the touch of a button so I could see out but no one but the sun could come in, very small dining room – the only guests I had there were my sister and her kids but that was rare, but a large kitchen with a refrigerator that would make Nigella Lawson wet her knickers and an island cooktop area that would make Gordon Ramsey’s hands sweat.  Oh, and of course the coffee making equipment was state of the art.   I poured all my salary into this place and likely raised the value of the whole building by 10%.  It was to be my refuge from Torchwood, the Hub, and my workmates.  Here I could be myself, not the cheery, “always helpful Ianto”.  And now that Jack seemed to be ignoring me, it was a safe place away from him as well.

When he got back from his adventures with his Doctor and we rid ourselves of Captain Hart, we had our date – dinner and a movie.  We had three dates actually and each more successively disastrous than the previous.  First, angry alien bunny rabbits invaded the restaurant we were dining at. The second one included Jack getting arrested for speeding then for trying to chat up the policeman and his female partner.  The third seemed like it was going to go well – I thought to check out a new Russian restaurant, all the rage in Cardiff - until Jack got into a drinking match with the owner and I had to carry him back to the Hub.  He woke up the next morning and forgot we’d even gone out.  Since then we’ve barely spoken other than him giving work related orders, grunts, or barks.  When Christmas came along, I thought to invite him to a nice evening at a new blues bar that had opened nearby but no sooner had I arrived at the Hub that morning that he announced that his Doctor had contacted and needed him on some mission.  The others didn’t mind – Gwen was going to meet her soon-to-be in-laws, Tosh was joining her mother in London and shyly asked if she could monitor the rift from there, while Owen had dates with the “Dotsie twins” and too said he wouldn’t be back until after the New Year. 

Jack turned to me and threw out, “Ah Ianto, that leaves you to hold down the fort, eh?”  He turned his back to me, waiting for me to drape his coat on him.  “No wild parties, alright.  I expect the place to be in tip, top shape when I get back.”

“Sir, do you have any idea when you’ll be back?”

He walked down the spiral steps and responded, “Ah, you know how The Doctor is.  We could be back yesterday!”  The strange blue box appeared, Jack walked in and just as strangely it and he were gone. 

I spent the next days between Christmas and New Year’s, I worked at the Hub.  After the second day there alone, I rather enjoyed myself for it was quiet and I could complete projects I’d been putting off because of some rift activity or emergency. I washed out the basement cells and gave our unusual guests a few nice meals.  I got those file drawers of Jack’s in some semblance of order.  And I finally got all the computers cleaned and disinfected as well.  So, by the time I had finished on December 31st, I was feeling good and thinking it was likely safe enough for me to leave before the rush and snow locked me there overnight.  Plus, I was no longer thinking of Jack.  So I guess that song from South Pacific is right – you can wash a man right out of your hair.

As I put the groceries away and changed into cozy house clothes, I thought that maybe I had put too much stock into the whole idea of a relationship in the first place.  Things had started off with a “best way to get over one is to get under another theme” with the occasional shagging and his light-hearted teasing.  I knew that I’d begun liking it, liking him more than he did I, so I didn’t have any expectations.  But when he asked me out, I thought, well, maybe.  Then, when the dates turned into work sessions and he didn’t bother to reschedule or even corner me in the file room anymore, I figured it wasn’t in the cards.  His dash off on Christmas Eve sort of sealed things.  And although I wished I was going to be kissing him after everyone yelled “Happy New Year!”, something inside me right now wondered if I’d made a lucky escape.

I did up some cocoa then went to my bedroom to watch some tellie.  I settled into a Graham Norton I’d recorded from the other day.  Once that was over and my drink was gone, I considered opening the Glenlivet.  I went into the dining room and opened it, knowing that one shot would probably make me sleepy – was it so bad to fall out before midnight?  I shrugged and poured myself two fingers worth and went back to my bed.  It was 7:12 pm.

I was startled awake at 10:39 pm by my door buzzer.  I figured it was some drunks having a laugh and turned over but it kept buzzing.  Damn, I was comfortable and it was going to be bloody impossible to get back to sleep quickly now.  I put my robe and slippers on and grumbled into the living room, “Who is it?  This better not be some kind of runabout!”

“It’s me, Ianto.  It’s Jack.  Open the door.  It’s freezing out here!”

I was stunned.  Jack had never been to my flat and I wasn’t sure how he knew where I lived for he never paid attention to personnel files unless I brought them to him.  He buzzed again to rock me out of my hesitancy.  I buzzed him in.  I opened my door, and he stood there, that nice smelling gray coat covered in snow, his hair wet, and his face reddened from the wind likely.  “Did you walk here?”

“Yeah,” he said, barging in past me, droplets of water landing all over my expensive, immaculately clean Persian rug.  “I couldn’t find the SUV and you can’t catch anything out there but a cold.”

Helping him out of the coat and letting him lean on me while taking off his shoes, I said, “Sorry, I didn’t expect you back.  I took it in a day before yesterday for winterizing.  Your socks are wet through.  I’ll get you some warmers.”

“Thanks!”

I went into valet mode quickly and easily, though, if I bothered to notice the corners of my mind, I’d recognize that the gleeful tone in my voice was betraying me.  By the time I returned with foot warmers and a towel, Jack was standing in the spot I’d left him but naked.  “I think it all needs drying.” 

“I’ll get you a robe,” I scrambled to gather up his clothes from the floor and ended up taking the warmers and towel back with me.

“Ah, Ianto?”

“Yes, sir?” I stuttered.

“I could still use that towel and warmers.”

“Ah right, sorry,” I said as I gave him the items and returned to my room to find something suitable. 

I didn’t realize he’d followed me.  “Nice place you have here!  I can’t believe you never invited me over.”

My back to him, he didn’t see me frown at that comment.  When did he ever act like he wanted to know more about me than …..  “I like it,” was what I said to him while looking in the closet.  I pulled out something my sister got me a few years back – bedwear’s version of the ugly sweater.  “I hope this will do.  I don’t have many guests.”

He took it reluctantly and the lights that lined the collar lit up.  “Not usually my fair – I prefer being naked but it’s freezing in here.  Thanks!”

“I was asleep,” I commented, “I usually turn the heat down when I go to bed.”  I walked past him as he put the robe on.  “I’ll turn it up a bit.  Would you like something to drink?”

He must have seen the scotch on the nightstand.  “Anything that would host this well.”

I went into the kitchen to search for the kettle to make a hot toddy.  He came in the kitchen, somehow making that horrible looking thing seem quite sexy.  “The kitchen looks professional grade.  I’m feeling bad that I keep you at the Hub so much.  You must be able to put out some nice meals in this space.”

“I have been trying to take lessons, appetizers and sushi mostly,” I said, finding another body part betraying me, this time my face.  “It’s online so I don’t have to worry about missing a session and getting woefully behind.”

“Well,” Jack said after finding and pulling a stool over to the island then seating himself like a child awaiting a well-deserved gift, “you’re looking at a willing victim.  I’m starved!”

I was stunned, mixed up by his sudden interest in something other than himself and my immediate desire to take advantage of it.  “I don’t have any sushi rice ready and it is best when fresh.  But I think I can whip up something.  I’ll see what I have in the box.”

I finished his totty and started to prepare a dish from a recent lesson.  I had to admit it was thrilling to do this for someone other than my landlady or myself.  I looked at what I had.  “How about Chicken Taco Pacos?”

“Sounds like yum!”

While I made the treats, he brought the bottle of Glenlivet in the kitchen, refilling his tea cup with it as he told me of his latest adventure with The Doctor.  In listening between the lines, I answered my jealousy questions about their relationship – he was fond of The Doctor, admired him deeply and loved him like a father-figure, not a lover.  Although that didn’t say anything about how he felt about me, it was still somehow comforting.  I was listening intently to his story when the buzzer when off on the stove, indicating that the food was ready.  “Oh, I’ll find some small plates.”

Jack looked at the clock on my wall.  “Geeze Ianto, it’s nearly midnight!”

“Oh,” I thought while putting the hot tray on the stove, “I don’t have any champagne.”

“If you have the glasses beautiful, I’ve got the booze!”  He hopped off the stool and went back to the door.  I guess he had it hidden in one of the coat’s inside pockets.  “Where’s the TV?  We have to watch the countdown,” he shouted back.

I quickly found two flutes and washed the dust off  them.  “The only one is in the bedroom.”  I entered that room while he popped off the top and caught some of the foam before it fell on the bedspread.

“Nice catch!”

I smiled back at him shyly and he looked down at his feet.  “I’d better say this now that I have a little liquid courage . . . .,”

“. . . and before you’re completely sloshed!”

“Yeah, that too.”  I took the bottle from him and poured bubbly into them both.  I handed him his, thinking that I was enabling him to back out of whatever “truth” he was about to admit.  I didn’t succeed.  He pressed out the words like a well-rehearsed speech he was afraid he’d forget.  “Ianto, I know I’ve been distant lately.  It isn’t you.  It’s just this is kinda feeling a bit relationship-y to me.  And I thought initially we’d said, well, I said, just this once.”

I thought of being irritated with him but the sound of the countdown on the tellie distracted me.  “Then why are you here?  Usually, if someone wants to cool off a relationship, they don’t get naked in the other’s house, ask to be cooked food, then stand this close to them.”

In the background, you could hear “Happy New Year!”, crowd cheers, then shots of various couple combinations kissing – men kissing their gals, blokes kissing other blokes, parents hugging their children.  Jack and I lifted our glasses to them and took a long sip.  When mine was done and the announcers started chatting how this year would be better or at least different from the last, I put the flute on the nightstand and started back to the kitchen.  Jack grabbed at my elbow, “Where are you going?”

“I want to get the Tacos before they get cold.”

“What about my New Year’s kiss?”

“You presume a lot Jack Harkness,” I said somewhat harshly before turning back around.

He grabbed again at my elbow – for anyone viewing it, it looked like something out of a torrid romance.  Still, it was well-received.  “Ianto.  C’mon.  I’m an ass, you know that eh?  But I came here didn’t I?”  He looked down at his feet again while continuing to plead.  “Okay, I have feelings, I won’t deny that.  I thought I could play it light but I found myself getting, well, you know.”

“So?”

“But, it’s different for me.  Do you have any idea how many times I’ve gone through this?  How many times I’ve been in love and lost the people I’ve loved – if it ain’t through some Torchwood tragedy, old age robs me of them, time slowly pulls them away.  I’m, I’m tired of losing people.”

“You’re saying I could be one of those people?” I asked with a hopeful tone.  But something of my Welsh sensibility kicked in as well.  “Jack, I can’t imagine what it must be like for an immortal in-love but all you talk about is the loss.  Haven’t you had good times as well?  Loss is what is to be human and, when kept in perspective, it makes us treasure each moment and not waste time with stupidity and fear.”  I removed his hand from my elbow and took his flute from him, “You know, I pegged you for a man with more guts than that.  I guess chasing aliens across the universe doesn’t grow one’s balls.”

I was proud of that last one, particularly the storming out of the room – nice drama.  I supposed that I could get a role on _Eastenders_ or _Coronation Street_.  But when he didn’t follow me immediately into the kitchen, I reckoned my haughtiness had backfired.  _Oh, well_ , I thought to myself _, it was worth a try anyway.  Works for girls all the time_.  I put the cooled Chicken Tacos Pacos on a serving tray next to two small plates along with a dipping sauce I had made the other day.  They smelled good anyway.

I took the tray and placed it on the dining room table then turned on the overhead light.  When I looked toward the bedroom door, I didn’t see him, making me turn to check if his clothes were still handing over the hallway chair or if he had made a quick exit – won’t have blamed him for I’d hardly made him feel particularly welcome.  When I noted that everything was still in place, I walked into the bedroom to find him lying in the middle of my bed, atop of the sheets very naked again and sporting the tightest of erections.  Leaning against the headboard, resting against his hands, he said, “You already know I’m a coward.  Never claimed to be anything else.  This immortality thing only lets me be foolish, walk into dangers you all have to avoid.  The most I am is clever Ianto and even that fails me most times.”

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I know what you want from me.”  He moved over some and patted the bed next to me.  “Come.  Sit. Just sit.”  I did and we stared into the 100th presentation of “It’s a Wonderful Life” on the tellie.  “Even before I got stuck like this, stuck being immortal, I was shitty at relationships.  I was one big slapper, a downright whore.  Ask anyone.  Aliyah can tell you stories from my days at the Time Agency.”

Rabbi Aliyah Teelbaulm was another immortal, one of his professors when he was in school there. Aliyah was now the head of Torchwood Tel Aviv and still a close friend of Jack’s.   She told me many stories about Jack – said though he was worth loving and had always encouraged my attempts at a relationship with him.  “She said you still hold the record for the hosting the largest orgy ever in the student body.”

“I should have gotten a prize for that!  It lasted three days after all.”  He sighed heavily once he realized that his joke did nothing for my demeanor.  “Ianto, I’m not promising you anything.  Hell, I’m not sure how things got this far.  I thought we’d just be friends, maybe friends with benefits but just friends.  Now, well, here I am sitting naked in your bed with what I have to say is probably the world’s most attractive hard on and it's New Year’s.”

He had a point.  “Eat first,” I said getting up.  “From my experience, your erections come on often and easily but my food is getting cold and will not heat up well.”

He followed me out of the room and sat at the table – he did have the decency to put the robe back on first.  “This is some great stuff!  Wow!  I used to know this lovely Chinese girl, met her before the War . . . “ He’d launched into one of his stories.  I half listened and half thought about my feelings.  The truth was he wasn’t going to change.  He would always be a selfish ass, crazy, erratic, unromantic until he was romantic, withholding of his feelings, and exhausting.  So, I had to make a decision and make it now based on criteria that made sense to me alone – not depended on him being anything but the horrid bastard he would always be or the fact that in the end, when my hair grayed or I went bald, when my mind left or my memories of us disappeared, when something prettier or more exotic pranced by, or when I was killed by some alien or another – I had to determine what mattered to me.    “Do you love me?” I interrupted his story.

“What?”

“I didn’t stutter.”

He studied me some from across the table.  “Yes,” he said plainly.

I nodded rather calmly considering the gravity of his declaration.  “Right.  I don’t need to ask you again.”  I got up and headed to the kitchen, “more tea or just scotch?”

“Scotch, please.”

I brought out two glasses and poured.  “Continue the story.  How did you say the girl’s sister looked?”

He hesitated then whispered.  “You’re a brave man, Ianto Jones.”

“Or incredibly stupid.  At least that’s what John Hart said, said you’d break my heart.”

“He broke his own heart.”  I nodded and Jack returned to his story. 

We finished the Glenlivet, joked about the last sets of aliens who came through the rift and made love for the next day and a half, until the snow stopped and it was time to return to the Hub.  We never spoke of love again and as I reflect on that night, laying on a tile floor and dying, I realize that I didn’t need to.

 


End file.
